for J. G.
There is no return of uncreated soul to uncreated origin; there is the opening to a communion of soul and origin, a communion ultimately a gift of the origin, since everything that is, though finite, is also such a grace. G&B 273
June warmth blur of memory__gulls float between nitroblooms
Henry Thoreau is just not here__nor his crowning fact looms
his god-man but a gull’s cry__the greenish sparks that fly
from a duck’s head way out there__on the public bench I pass by
a homeless woman in a hoodie__the rich voice of Maya Angelou
shine of plastic bags at her feet__there is this mind passing through